


Bedtime Story

by Zombiebile



Category: Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-31
Updated: 2014-10-31
Packaged: 2018-02-23 08:23:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2540945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zombiebile/pseuds/Zombiebile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock sneaks into Greg's flat each night in order to better sleep at night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bedtime Story

**Author's Note:**

> A quick bedtime Drabble I wrote for my own dear Greg Lestrade.-- 
> 
> Mentions of: John, Mary, and Mycroft.

One night Sherlock sat alone in the sitting room at Mycroft's estate, in the comfort of his favorite chair. He sat in quiet contemplation, thinking back over what his life had been for the past decade. He realized that his life had changed dramatically since then and with this realization came the notion that his life had changed completely, well within the last year. John had settled into Married life with Mary, he himself had been staying with Mycroft; to his surprise they had fallen back into routine of how they were in youth, and Sherlock had grown vastly closer to Lestrade, or Greg as now they were on a first name basis and Sherlock, did in fact recall his name even though every once in awhile he liked to pretend he didn't. He recanted their meeting and the way he had all but directly spat in the newly appointed DI's face and cursed both him and his brother, for not having lives of their own, that they had to meddle within his. As the time passed Sherlock grew thankful that he could always count on the pair as a constant and he took comfort in that fact. Tonight was the night before Halloween and a lonely one at that. Mycroft sat in the room, with Sherlock, keeping to his reading, while Sherlock pondered just what Greg was up to tonight. It seemed a little odd to him that his thoughts had become centrally focused but he knew deep down that there had grown a certain sentimentality and a need to know.Sherlock had grown tired of the stagnant lonesomeness welling in his gut; the idea of spending another night crawling into bed alone drew from him a certain sadness. After an hour of staring out the window in thought it dawned on him that he had a spare key to Greg's flat for his own uses. Stepping out of Mycroft's home, Sherlock made for the street. He hailed a cab and provided an address for the drop. He closed his hand around the key in the pocket of his coat while the cab sped across town. Once the cab arrived, Sherlock paid the cabby and headed for the flat. He took the key from his pocket and unlocked the door, making certain to be very quiet, for it was quite late and Greg was sure to be in bed. Softly, quietly, and through the dark Sherlock made his way for Greg's bedroom. Upon reaching the room Sherlock entered and took a minute to allow his eyes to adjust to the dark. He narrowed his gaze to Greg's sleeping form and gave a moment to sigh. Quietly he slipped off his coat and kicked off his shoes before sliding his form into the bed alongside the sleeping Detective Inspector. He then carefully took Greg's arm to drape around himself before shutting his eyes and falling asleep. This continued for about a month straight; Sherlock would enter Greg's home, when he was sure Lestrade would be asleep, slip into bed with him, and always left in the morning before the DI was any the wiser. Unbeknownst to London's favorite detective; however, Greg was fully aware of just what was taking place. He was never truly asleep when Sherlock came in, and the comfort of having Sherlock so close aided in his own slumber as well. It wouldn't be for many months before Sherlock would learn that Greg himself had slipped him the spare. -The End.


End file.
